


Seven Days, Seven Books (Loki One Shot)

by revengingbarnes



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Books, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Library, One Shot, imagine, novels, quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 05:15:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16906794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revengingbarnes/pseuds/revengingbarnes
Summary: Someone is leaving books on your table, with love confessions highlighted in them for you to find.





	Seven Days, Seven Books (Loki One Shot)

**Author's Note:**

> My Loki thirst was acting up so here yall go

The Stark Tower housed a variety of individuals, all of them different in their personalities. Some were quiet, some were loud. Some were funny, some were… frankly, scary. They all had their own space, their own little lair, where you could always go to find them.

For example, finding Bruce Banner was easy since he was always in the labs. Wanda stayed in her room mostly, or she’d be in the balcony overlooking the city. Steve spent a lot of time at the gym, sparring with Natasha or Clint. They all had their way of doing things, their way of spending their days.

You were one of the people who liked to remain in one place, yours being the library. The Stark Tower library was extremely extensive, with every genre of books that you could imagine. You thought it to be your own personal heaven, where you could sit and lounge around for hours on end. Staying confined in one place didn’t bother you, because sitting in that library, you could travel to worlds unimaginable by others, all in the comfort of the light of the roaring fireplace.

No one would want such peace to be compromised, of course. Neither did you. The library was your space. Everyone knew that. Not a lot of people cared for the old fashioned reading when everything was available online. Steve would come in every so often to get a book, Bucky popped by occasionally as well. Wanda and Vision would come by once a week. But their visits were extremely limited. Most of the time, it was just you and the deep, deep quiet of the room around you.

Loki was the only person who used the library frequently. He hadn’t been a resident of the Stark Tower for more than a week when you realized he shared your mutual love for books. It would always make you very happy when you’d see him pull a book out, most of them were ones you’d already read, and you’d have to stop yourself from commenting on them. You didn’t know how he would react to you trying to talk to him. So you kept your mouth shut.

Every morning, Loki would walk into the library. Your eyes would meet and he’d give you a polite nod.

“And how are you today, Y/N?”

You’d smile at him. “Super. And you?”

“Well enough.”

And that would be it.

He would pick out a few books at a time, taking them with him, most probably back to his room. He seemed to have realized that the library was your space, so he never asked to sit there. Not that you would have said no if he did.

You liked Loki. Something about his quiet demeanor, but constantly shifting eyes told you he had a lot to say, a lot of input that he could contribute, and he was just holding back. Sometimes you wished he would sit with you so you could talk about the books you both had read. But you were too shy to invite him. So you let the little pattern continue as it was.

This morning was no different than many others. After breakfast, everybody headed off to wherever they pleased, which meant that you came to the library. You sat down on the loveseat opposite to the fireplace, reaching towards the little table next to it to pick up your book and continue where you had left off.

There was another book sitting next to yours. You frowned at it, certain that you had returned all other books to their place last night. You picked it up and looked at the cover.

It was Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. There was a yellow sticky note on the cover.

"A little gift for you inside." It said in neat, loopy handwriting. Your eyebrows furrowed.

You remembered reading this book years ago, and you remembered enjoying it. There was a little green tag at the edge, near the middle of the book. Curiously, you flipped it open. Your eyes immediately caught the green highlighted text.

"He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking."

You smiled at the quote. It was one of your absolute favorites in the book. You looked at the sticky note in your other hand, reading it again.

A little gift for you inside.

You felt your cheeks heat up as you thought of the quote in reference to this note. You looked at the green tag and the green highlight.

Something told you that you knew who had done this. But it seemed too good to be true. You lay the book down, returning to your own with a smile in your face.

………….

There was another book on the table the next morning.

This time, you picked it up a little cautiously. Two days in a row? And what was it this time?

It was Gone With The Wind by Margaret Mitchell.

The same green tag. The same green highlight.

"You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how."

You breathed in, pulling the book to your chest, heart thumping. It was more personal this time, more…. meaningful in a sense.

It had to be Loki. No one else came to library that frequently. But you just couldn’t imagine him liking you that way. He had always kept his distance, always spoke minimally. Why go to such lengths to confess something that had such a thin chance of being real anyway?

Except this was Loki. And he had a flair for theatrics. It was only fitting for him to confess this way.

Try as you might, you couldn’t think of anyone else who might have done it. It was another day, another book, another quote later, that you thought maybe it wasn’t important to know. These confessions sent to you, from within the best words in literature, they made you feel special, loved, admired. You weren’t sure you were ready to give that up just yet.

"By my soul, I can neither eat, drink, nor sleep; nor, what’s still worse, love any woman in the world but her."

Loki’s visits didn’t change in the slightest. He’d still drop by in the mornings, return old books, browse around for new ones, and leave. He’d still greet you the same way. But this time, you would watch him closely, watch his expression as he spoke, trying to find out if it was really him or if your mind was playing tricks with you. But he didn’t even flinch when he stopped by. No change, nothing different.

"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

For one week, you got one book every day. Seven days, seven books. Seven breathtaking quotes that confessed love. You felt more and more giddy with each passing one, looked forward to it every day, waiting to see what new quote would be highlighted this time.

Maybe you would have let the whole ordeal slide completely. Maybe you would have let it happen until the other person got tired, but one morning, you got what you needed.

You picked up the book just as Loki walked in. It was a split second, and you might not have noticed it at all if you had been even slightly distracted, but there it was, a shift in his expression. Just a fraction of a smile.

You turned your back to him, grinning. It was him. It had to be. It could be no one else.

"I became fascinated by your goodness. I was drawn in by it. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. And it was only when I began to feel actual, physical pain every time you left the room that it finally dawned on me: I was in love."

You slumped into your seat. You didn’t turn to look at him. Your heart was beating wildly. You heard him putter around behind you as you stood up, walking over to him.

He looked at you, eyebrow raised. You had just disrupted the pattern you two had always followed. He’d get his books, you’d mind your own business. But he knew just as well as you that he’d disrupted the pattern when he had put down that first book on the table.

You looked him in the eye, body inches from his.

“Whatever our souls are made of,” you whispered. “his and mine are the same.”

Loki breathed out, letting a small smile take over his face.

“Wuthering Heights.” He said.

“Indeed.” you replied. “And the next time you want to confess your undying love for me, I hope you use your own words.”

Loki chuckled at that, stepping closer. His breath ghosted over your lips.

“Why would I?” His lips brushed against yours. “When I have so much literary treasure to let you know exactly how I feel?”

Your eyes were closed at the proximity, your face was hot and your heart was beating hard against your chest. You were positive he could hear it.

“Steal as many words as you may, you can’t steal actions from books as well.”

You felt rather than saw him smile. “That I cannot.”

And then his lips met yours.

It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy; - it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.

…………..


End file.
